


Surface Arguments

by stellarmeadow



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eddie is the king of emotional constipation, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, No really Eddie could be paying for Frank's next house, that man needs SO MUCH THERAPY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: ”I couldn’t even call you to bail me out of jail!The words stuck with Buck long after he’d left the store without even buying anything. He couldn’t stay and watch his team work without him, so he’d put down his basket and just left. Drove away without looking back.Except the ghost of those words went with him.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 433





	Surface Arguments

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to tarialdarion (it's her fault this is twice as long as it was originally intended) and smudgegirl (it's her fault it has less typos and mistakes) for the help and cheerleading! And to hideeho for pushing me over the edge to go ahead and post this--happy birthday! :)

_”I couldn’t even call you to bail me out of jail!_

The words stuck with Buck long after he’d left the store without even buying anything. He couldn’t stay and watch his team work without him, so he’d put down his basket and just left. Drove away without looking back.

Except the ghost of those words went with him. 

Eddie’s ‘If that was a thing that happened’ had been utter bullshit. Clearly Eddie had managed to keep it quiet, judging by the shock on everyone’s faces.

Well, everyone but Bosko. Her face had been less “WHAT?” and more “Oops!” 

He hadn’t realized she and Eddie were on bail-me-out-of-jail terms. But what bothered him more than that was the fact that Eddie thought he couldn’t call if he was in trouble. As if Buck would ever give a shit about a lawsuit over Eddie needing him. 

What did that say about what Eddie thought of him to begin with? 

Or about where Eddie’s head was at. Because Buck wasn’t blind. He’d also spent more time looking at Eddie than anyone else in the store, and Eddie was seriously pissed. But he was also tired. Buck knew him too well to miss the signs. 

So, yeah, Buck was worried. 

He was trying to think of ways to approach Lena without it looking weird when Bobby, of all people presented the perfect opportunity. Never mind that Buck didn’t know what a rage house was, or if it meant people were going to be throwing actual rage at him over a lawsuit. He jumped at the chance to be with his team. To be in the same room with Eddie. 

And if he managed to corner Lena alone with some questions, even better. 

*** 

Lena made it easy. 

Buck was still buzzing from the fact that he was going to get to go back to work at the 118. And if it took ‘My house my rules’ and whatever else he had to go through to get his life back, then bring it on. He’d survived Bobby _actually_ firing him once and managed to get back into his good graces. He could do it again. 

Before he could even start to look for Lena, she showed up next to him with a sledgehammer. And yeah, okay, maybe Buck was a little angry at the turn his life had taken, and it felt good to smash a few things. Maybe this would help Eddie, too.

He took off his face shield and looked around to see if it was helping Eddie, only to realize he wasn’t there. “Where’s Eddie?” he asked Lena.

“He said he had other plans.”

 _Other plans?_ “So what was the deal with jail?” he asked as casually as he could. “I know him better than anyone,” Buck said, when she hesitated. “That was not hypothetical.” 

She shrugged. “He was having some anger issues,” she said, and her frank look at him made it clear she thought he had something to do with it.

Which…fair point.

“Was?”

Lena shrugged again, then gave him a look up and down before her face softened. “Relax. I have the same problem sometimes, so I gave him an outlet.”

 _An ‘outlet’?_ “What kind of outlet?”

He must not have hidden his reaction very well, because she held up both hands. “Not _that_ kind of outlet,” she said quickly. “Trust me, he’s not my type.” 

“Oh.” The idea of Eddie not being someone’s type didn’t quite compute with Buck, but okay. “I know this fight club kind of place,” she said quietly. “It’s not a big deal. Just a way to let off some steam.”

Fucking hell, she really didn’t know Eddie at all. 

Maybe that worked for her, and it might work for a lot of people. But not Eddie. That would be like trying to put out a fire on Eddie’s clothes by throwing accelerant on it. 

If he let on how much it bothered him, though, she might feel the need to warn Eddie. “Glad to hear he has an outlet, then. That makes me feel better. Thanks for letting me know.” He cleared his throat, “But, um, I have a feeling if he knew I was asking he’d be a little annoyed with me—”

“More than he already is?”

Buck forced a laugh. “Yeah, exactly, so maybe if you could just not say anything to him about this conversation?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I am _not_ getting in between whatever is going on with you two, trust me.” 

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Buck said, putting down the sledgehammer. “Be back in a minute.” 

He went to the bathroom and closed himself in a stall before leaning against the door. Eddie’s ‘other plans’ were obvious, at least to Buck. What else could a guy who looked like he was about to totally Hulk out the other day, a guy with ‘anger issues’ who had just been introduced to a fight club, be doing instead of a rage room?

There was no way he was asking Lena where this fight club was. Even if she would tell him, she might catch on and warn Eddie. And it’s not like Buck was looking to ambush the guy, but if Eddie knew Buck might be headed there, he’d be long gone before Buck arrived.

Buck opened his phone and flipped through contacts until he found the one he wanted and hit call. “Hey, Mark,” he said when the guy answered, “it’s Buck from the 118.” 

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

They talked for a minute before Buck said, “Listen, I kind of need to let off a little steam. And I heard there might be some kind of a fight club around somewhere, and I figure if anyone would know, it would be you.”

Mark laughed. “Let me guess—Bosko let it slip but now she won’t tell you where it is?”

“Yeah, man, how’d you know?”

“She did that to me for a month before she spilled. Want me to text you the info?”

“Yeah, would you mind?”

“Sure, no problem, as long as you promise never to tell her you got it from me.”

“What information? No idea what you’re talking about. Who are you?”

He laughed again. “Yeah, exactly.”

They hung up, and a moment later Buck’s phone pinged with the address in a text. He pulled it up in maps and checked traffic time. If he left now he could probably still make it while Eddie was there, unless….

Well, unless nothing. Eddie could hold his own in a fight—he wasn’t going to be leaving there early. 

Buck found Bobby and thanked him again for the invite. “Leaving so soon?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah, I just…now that I know I’m going to be able to go back to work, I want to make sure I’m rested and ready for whatever you need me to do.” 

Bobby studied him for a moment before nodding. “See you soon,” he said, with a hint of a smile. 

“Yeah. Looking forward to it. And Bobby….” Buck looked for the words. “I’m sorry. And thank you. For…for letting be back into the team, on whatever terms.”

He gave Bobby a smile and a little wave before he turned and headed for his car. 

***

Buck wasn’t sure what he’d expected a fight club to be, but a random junkyard hadn’t been it. He parked a little away from the bright headlights of the ring of cars and turned off the Jeep. He’d spent the drive trying to figure out what to say to Eddie, but he still hadn’t figured it out. 

Of course, that didn’t matter if Eddie saw him coming. 

He took off his shirt, which would be horribly out of place here, and fished a hoodie out of the back seat to cover his tank top and his head until he was ready to be seen. He still didn’t know what he was going to say, but he couldn’t sit there forever. 

As he approached the ring of tires, Buck searched for Eddie in the crowd for a moment before his eyes landed on the shirtless guy crouching on the inside edge of the ring. 

Eddie.

And he was hurt. Buck started forward, but before he got to the ring, Eddie was up and flying through the air. He knocked his opponent flat and punched until another man came up and pulled him off, declaring him the winner. 

Eddie’s primal scream went straight through Buck, leaving chills in its wake. He couldn’t help but look at Eddie in that moment and think that would be exactly what he looked like in bed, straining as he thrust into Buck—

Nope. No. Not going there. Not now. 

Buck focused, backing off a little as Eddie went over to his truck and sat on the back, cleaning himself up a bit. The guy who had declared Eddie the winner, apparently the one in charge of this mess, went over and said something to Eddie, who nodded.

The guy nodded back before calling out, “Jimenez, Williams, you’re up!”

Buck tracked the guy to the other side of the ring and caught him before the next fight started. “Hey,” Buck said, “that guy who just won, is he going in again?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I want in,” Buck said. “Against him.”

The guy sized him up before nodding. “Name?”

“Hunter,” Buck said. He wanted to ensure Eddie had no warning until they were in the ring.

If Eddie was pissed off enough to go punching people, then at least he should be punching someone responsible for his anger.

“You’re up in two rounds.”

Buck nodded and backed off into the shadows to watch as Jimenez beat the shit out of Williams, and then Mayer took quick care of Bryant. 

“Diaz! Hunter! Your turn!”

He waited until Eddie was inside the ring, bouncing around to get ready, before he stepped into the ring himself and pulled back his hood. 

Eddie froze. 

Buck raised an eyebrow. “You gonna throw a punch?”

“No.”

He moved closer until he could feel the heat of Eddie’s body. “Come on, Eddie. It’s a fight, you’re supposed to punch me.”

“No.”

He might be saying no, but the way he was clearly straining to keep from punching said something else. “Who are you trying to convince, Eddie, me or you?” 

“What the fuck?” Eddie hissed. “You’re on blood thinners, do you have a death wish?”

“Do you?”

Eddie took a long breath in, hands clenched in fists, every muscle tight, and Buck braced himself for the hit.

Instead, Eddie turned and walked away. 

Buck followed, catching Eddie at the door of his truck before he could get in. “Dammit, Eddie, talk to me.”

Eddie stared off into the distance over Buck’s shoulder. “Lawsuit kind of made talking to you impossible.”

“The lawsuit is over,” Buck said, the words clipped. 

“I didn’t say that it was the legal aspect of it that kept me from talking to you.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It was a stupid thing to do, I know that.”

Eddie looked like he might actually laugh at that. “Do you? Really?”

“Yeah, I do.” Buck ran a hand through his hair, trying not to pull it out completely in his frustration. “I know it was stupid, I know what it did to the team, and if I had a time machine, I’d go back and undo it. But I don’t. All I can do is apologize.”

Eddie actually glanced at him for a moment, worrying at his lower lip, a trait he shared with Christopher when either of them was thinking. “Actions have consequences that apologies can’t just erase, Buck.”

“I know that, too.”

Eddie leaned back against the truck, arms folded over his chest, and finally looked right at Buck. “So you know you abandoned us, right? You abandoned the 118, you abandoned Chris, you…you abandoned me. Over a job. It’s _just_ a job.”

“Yeah, it’s different for you,” Buck said. “The job is all I have. If you lost the job, you’d be okay. You have Chris.”

Eddie pushed off the truck, suddenly up in Buck’s face. “So did you! You had him and you had me and you just tossed all that away because you didn’t get your way! Daddy made you angry so you had to go smash up his car and almost take all of us out in the process!”

It should be criminal for anyone to be this hot when they were pissed. “Eddie, I—”

“No, let’s talk about consequences, Buck. Consequences are all of us having our dirty laundry aired in front of strangers. Consequences are watching Bobby get raked over the coals about his past again. Consequences are trying to explain to my _kid_ why he can’t call you to hear your voice when he wakes up convinced you drowned in the tsunami!”

Buck blinked back the tears trying to escape. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For all of it, but especially Chris. All I want to do is make it up to him. To you. To everyone.” 

“Yeah, well, start working on that time machine,” Eddie said, backing away and opening the door to his truck. “Maybe then you can fix it.” 

He got in and drove off without another word.

***

A couple of hours later Buck was still going over the conversation in his head as he flipped through crappy late night TV. He could have handled the whole thing better, maybe not ambushed the guy, but still, he’d been honest. There wasn’t anything he could do to go back and fix the past. All he had was ‘I’m sorry.’

If that wasn’t good enough, then he wasn’t sure where to go from here. 

He thought the knocking sound was on the TV at first, but after the second knock he realized it was his front door. Knocking after midnight meant the list of potential visitors was short, but he still refused to hope until he checked the peephole to see Eddie on the other side. 

“Come to take that punch at me?” Buck asked, but the joke fell flat. 

Eddie looked just as keyed up as he had at the junkyard. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” Buck pulled the door open wider, closing it when Eddie was inside. “Can I, uh…can I get you anything?”

Eddie shook his head, looking around like he was expecting an ambush out of one of the corners. Which… “Look, Eddie, I’m sorry,” Buck said.

Eddie shook his head. “I know what the job means to you, Buck,” he said. “I get it. I just….” He rubbed at his neck, which didn’t do anything, judging by how tight his muscles still looked when he stopped. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of going off like that whenever we feel like it. We have people we’re responsible for. And you didn’t just hurt your team. You hurt all the people we’re responsible for, too.” 

“I know,” Buck said quietly. “I know, and I’m—I know I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, but I am sorry.”

“I don’t just need an apology,” Eddie said. “I need to know that you’re going to stop and think the next time before you do something so stupid. I need to trust that for Chris’s sake as well as…as well as the team.” 

“Eddie, I swear, the biggest thing I’ve taken away from all of this is never to go off half-cocked like an idiot.”

Eddie’s laugh sounded a little cracked around the edges. “So, you’re getting a total personality transplant then?”

At least it was an honest to goodness joke—Buck took that as progress at this point. “I’m never going to give up fighting,” Buck said, trying to find the words to explain, the magic combination of words that would unlock this barrier between them. “But I’m not going to just go do something stupid. Not again, no matter how justified I might think I am in the moment.”

Eddie studied him, eyes growing darker the longer the moment stretched out, the look raising goosebumps over Buck’s body. That restrained energy was still there in every muscle that Eddie was clearly holding in check, and Buck wasn’t sure if a punch might be coming after all. 

At last Eddie cleared his throat and took a step backward. As if he’d released a tether, Buck sagged back against the island, grateful for something solid at his back. 

“I should probably go,” Eddie said.

“Yeah. Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Night.” Eddie turned, took two steps towards the door before he said, “Fuck it,” and turned back around, advancing quickly. The edge of the island pressed hard into Buck’s back as Eddie leaned into him, lips every bit as violent in a punch but far more welcome. 

He’d wondered once or twice—okay, once or twice an hour—if this would be anywhere near as good between the two of them as it was in his head. The answer was no—it was so much more. He couldn’t have imagined how easily he’d let Eddie have whatever he wanted any way he wanted. And he definitely couldn’t have ever imagined how amazing it would feel when he did. 

And now that he could imagine it, he didn’t want to imagine letting it go.

When Eddie let go and leaned back just enough to search Buck’s face, Buck could only stare, fingers itching to pull Eddie back. Before he could, Eddie did it for him, guiding him to the couch without ever quite breaking the kiss. 

Buck was still catching up with the fact that they’d moved when he found himself sitting on the couch, pants around his ankles, Eddie straddling his thighs, his pants down just enough that his cock was rubbing insistently against Buck’s as Eddie moved. 

In the middle of another soul-searing kiss, Eddie wrapped his hand around both their cocks and started moving, hard and fast. He broke off the kiss to attack Buck’s neck, random patterns of kisses and bites that Buck had no defense for. 

He surged up into Eddie, hands digging into Eddie’s ass, driving him on. Buck never wanted this to end, but his body refused to listen to the commands to slow down, pushing just as hard into Eddie as Eddie was into him.

Eddie pushed up hard one last time before every muscle under Buck’s hands went tight. That feeling, combined with the guttural moan that sounded like a distant cousin of the scream at the junkyard, and the almost afterthought way Eddie was stroking Buck’s cock, sent Buck over the edge. 

Buck was still floating, his eyes closed, when Eddie’s weight disappeared and Buck looked up to see Eddie straightening his clothes. “I’d better get going. I have to pick up Chris from Abuela’s early tomorrow.” 

Talk about whiplash. Buck wouldn’t argue, though. If this was what he needed to do to show Eddie that he wasn’t going to push everything, all the time, then so be it. “Tell him I said hi.”

“Or you could tell him yourself.” Eddie’s clothes were fine, but he still wasn’t looking at Buck, even as he said, “Want to come over for dinner tomorrow?” 

Duh. Extreme whiplash or not. “Yeah, that’d be great.” 

“Six pm. Bring pizza.” 

He nodded, leaving Buck half-naked on the couch and staring at the door.

_What the fuck?_

***

Whatever Eddie’s issues were, Buck wasn’t about to upset Christopher any more than he already had. He showed up at six on the dot, pizza in hand, along with Chris’s favorite dessert. Before the lawsuit, Buck would have just walked in, but he was no longer sure of the rules anymore.

His knock was answered quickly by Christopher himself, who yelled “Buck!” and hugged him around the waist, crutches smacking Buck in the legs. 

“Hey, Superman!” Buck said, hugging him with one arm, the other balancing pizza and dessert. “How’ve you been?”

Christopher leaned back to look up at Buck, and man, that grin…. How the hell had he lived without that? “Good. But I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Buck put the pizza on the floor as he knelt down to look Christopher in the eye. “Listen, I’m really sorry I haven’t been around. I had some things to take deal with, and I didn’t mean to just up and leave like that. But I promise not to go AWOL on you again, okay?” 

Christopher scrunched up his nose. “What’s AWOL?”

“It means leaving without checking in with you first. I’ll be sure to get your permission if I have to go away, okay?”

“Okay.” 

He hugged Buck around the neck this time, and Buck hugged back with all his might before letting go. “Where’s your dad?” 

“In the kitchen.” Christopher turned and started that way. “Come on!”

Buck picked up dinner and followed into the kitchen, where Eddie was putting away dishes. He looked over his shoulder and said, “Chris, what have I told you about letting the pizza boy into the house?” 

“Hey,” Buck said, “it’s not his fault you didn’t give him enough for a tip.” 

“Dad, can I show Buck my car before dinner?” 

Eddie nodded. “Wash your hands first!” he called as Chris hurried down the hall. He turned to Buck. “You guys okay? I thought you might want to talk to him in private, so I let him answer the door.”

“Yeah, we’re good. He’s a forgiving kid.” 

Too late, Buck realized that might sound like a dig against Eddie, who technically hadn’t forgiven him yet. Unless sex was forgiveness in Eddie Diaz language. 

“Yeah, not sure where he gets that from,” Eddie said, watching the door for Chris’s return. “Sure as hell wasn’t his parents or grandparents.”

So that was a no on the forgiveness, then. Or maybe not. Maybe Eddie was just thinking out loud. Or possibly making a joke that meant nothing. 

The man really needed to come with Diaz-to-English code breaking software. 

For example, if Buck didn’t know better, he’d swear they’d never had sex on his couch eighteen hours ago. Or ever. 

Which…he was well-versed enough in Diaz-ese to know could mean a lot of different things. He just hadn’t figured out which one yet. 

“See my car?” Chris said, as he hurried back into the room with Legos in hand. 

They didn’t exactly look like a car but Buck could kind of see it. “This is great!” he said, holding it up and looking at it from every angle.

“Did you wash your hands?” Eddie asked Chris. 

“Oh! Right!” 

He hurried off again and Eddie said, “He likes putting the bricks together and they’re good for dexterity practice, so…it’s a car.”

“Hey, when he makes his first million selling this vision of a car at an art auction, you’ll swear you saw a car from day one.” 

Eddie laughed, and it was genuine, but the smile still didn’t reach his eyes, which eliminated at least a couple of the translations of his behavior. 

Unfortunately, that still left a lot to sift through.

*** 

By Christopher’s bedtime, Buck had made very little headway in figuring out what was going on with Eddie. He’d watched Eddie closely, which only underlined the fact that Eddie had been watching him, too, his eyes dark and unreadable. 

Was he remembering the night before? Was he regretting it? Or maybe thinking about doing it again? 

Or was he just wondering if he had room in the fridge for leftovers?

Christopher insisted that Buck read him a story for bedtime. When Christopher fell asleep halfway through, Buck closed the book and looked up to see Eddie standing in the doorway, still with that same expression. 

Buck quietly left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. “I guess…” Buck said, something in that look giving him goosebumps not unlike the night before. He cleared his throat. “I guess I should go.”

For a moment he thought Eddie was going to invite him to stay, maybe even give him a repeat performance. But then Eddie’s jaw tightened and his lips thinned before he said, “Yeah, we have an early shift tomorrow.” 

Eight wasn’t particularly early, but okay. “Right.”

“Thanks for coming over,” Eddie said, his voice softer. “I think you made Christopher’s night.” 

“He made mine, too, so we’re even.” 

Eddie’s hand twitched like he was going to reach out, but then it went still. The movement was so slight that if Buck hadn’t been studying so closely, he might not have even noticed. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Eddie said.

“Yeah. Night, Eddie.” 

***

Buck flopped onto his back on the floor, trying to catch his breath, the air cool on his sweaty skin, Eddie’s breath heavy near his ear. 

Four times now. Four times in nine days Eddie had shown up at Buck’s door and stuck his tongue down Buck’s throat without so much as a hello. Every time the sex had been a little different, but always quick and dirty, like a secret they had to hide. 

So much like a secret that any other time of the day Buck still wondered if he was just having very vivid hallucinations. 

Because Eddie said nothing about it otherwise. He acted normal, if slightly less up in Buck’s space at work. The only indicator that it wasn’t just Buck’s imagination was when Chim had noticed a particularly bright hickey on Buck’s collarbone that his shirt hadn’t quite managed to cover. 

Buck had just raised an eyebrow at Chim’s teasing, but the look on Eddie’s face shifted from bland and normal to the dark one that gave Buck all the good kind of chills every time he saw it. 

But four times had sent Buck from okay, fine, if this is what you need instead of an apology, great, fine, not gonna complain to no, really, what the fuck? 

It’s not like Buck hadn’t noticed Eddie showed up a little looser the days after they’d had sex. The same kind of loose that Buck associated with new bruises that Eddie tried to brush off with random explanations. 

Only there were no new bruises, at least not on the outside. 

So far Buck had let it go because he didn’t want to rock the boat, not when Eddie was at least speaking to him again, and he didn’t want to push. But sex as a way of pushing all the bad shit out of your head, while slightly better than fight club, was still a less than healthy coping mechanism.

Buck 2.0 had Buck 1.0 to thank for that lesson.

Eddie rolled to his feet to get dressed. Buck did up his pants—somehow they never ended up getting them all the way off—and sat up, watching. When Eddie had his shirt on, Buck took a deep breath.

_Now or never._

Buck got up, heading for the kitchen, but stopping when he was between Eddie and the door. “You know,” Buck said, turning and taking a few steps closer to Eddie, until they were almost within reach of each other, “if you’re going to keep substituting me for the fight club thing, I think I’d rather you just punch me, thanks. At least that’s slightly more healthy in the long run.” 

Eddie blinked. “What the fuck?” 

“That’s what I’ve been wondering,” Buck said. “Not that I have an issue with you showing up at my door for sex, mind you, but I’d rather it be because you want to sleep with me and not because you’re trying not to punch me.”

“Punch—what? I don’t want to punch you.” 

Buck took a few steps closer, getting in Eddie’s face. “You’re really gonna tell me that you don’t think about sitting across from me in a lawyer’s office and imagine yourself jumping across the table and punching me right in the face?”

“Buck—”

Despite his denial, Eddie’s fists were so tight Buck would swear he could hear the knuckles creak. “That you don’t think about Chris and not being able to call me and you don’t want the satisfaction of me with a black eye?” 

Eddie took a long breath, that dark look in full force, something more in it this time than sex. His muscles strained as if they were trying hard to jump out of his skin. 

Buck stood there and waited for whatever storm broke. 

Instead, Eddie backed off slowly. “You left,” he said, back to arm’s length. “The job was more important to you than any of us, and you just left.” 

“ _You_ are part of the job,” Buck said. “Everyone there is more than just a job to me. And I needed my family back.” 

“But you didn’t lose us! We were still there until _you_ cut us off! You left us without so much as note!” 

Note? A note…oh.

Shannon. 

The magic key for decoding the Eddie puzzle. Shannon had left with just a note, and Eddie still wasn’t over waiting for everyone else he cared about to do the same. 

And Buck had left. 

“I never left, Eddie,” Buck said quietly. “I was doing everything I could to come back. There’s a difference.” 

Eddie was instantly on alert. “Difference?” 

“You’re gonna stand there and tell me you don’t know what this is about?” When Eddie just glared at him, Buck decided to fill in a few blanks. “A note?” Buck asked. “You said I left without so much as a note. And you still don’t know where this is coming from?”

The punch flew so fast that Buck wouldn’t have had time to move. But it wasn’t aimed at him. Instead, it hit the wall, knocking in some of the plaster, before Eddie shoved past Buck and stormed out of the apartment.

*** 

Buck threw the video game controller onto the coffee table in disgust. He hadn’t won a single game in two hours, and he knew exactly who to thank. 

A shower somehow hadn’t managed to rid Buck entirely of Eddie’s scent, and dinner and beer hadn’t quite washed away the taste. Or maybe he was imagining it—maybe it was his latest method of torturing himself. 

Video games required focus, and when all Buck could see was Eddie getting punched in a ring at a junkyard, driven there by Buck’s attempts at amateur psychology, focus was a problem. 

Buck’s phone rang, Eddie’s face staring up from the screen. “Hey,” Buck said carefully as he answered.

“Hey.” Street noise in the background meant the fight club was unlikely, unless he’d found another one somewhere else. “I, uh…can you come pick me up?”

Buck sat up on the edge of his seat. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I just—I think I’ve had one too many to drive.” 

More than one if he was calling Buck instead of an Uber. “Where are you?” When Eddie named a bar not that far away, Buck stood up, heading for the door. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

***

Eddie was leaning against the corner of the building when Buck pulled up. He pushed himself off the wall steadily enough, but stumbled a little as he got into the Jeep.

“Where’s your truck?” Buck asked, watching Eddie attempt to buckle his seatbelt. 

“I walked.” At Buck’s look, Eddie shrugged. “I needed the air.” 

_Right._ Buck leaned over and did up Eddie’s seatbelt for him, the move taking him close enough to smell Eddie, mixed with the scent of whiskey. “So…do you want me to drive you home?” Buck asked. 

“Can we…do you think I could maybe hang out at your place for a little while?” 

“Sure,” Buck said, keeping his voice neutral as he pulled away from the curb. He could be civil while Eddie sobered up enough to drive home. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have enough in common to fill the time without ever having to bring up Eddie’s issues.

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t just call an Uber,” Buck said, trying to keep his tone light.

Eddie’s laugh wasn’t light. “I thought about it. Almost did. But it would’ve given me the chance to change my mind.” 

Which made no sense, but then alcohol rarely did. 

The rest of the drive was silent. It wasn’t until they were in Buck’s apartment, seated at the table with two cups of coffee that Eddie spoke. 

“I told Frank I didn’t want Christopher to end up like me,” Eddie said, staring into his mug. “My parents…it was all about suck it up and deal with them. Emotion was for the weak. Chris isn’t like that, and I don’t want to break him.”

“You’re not broken,” Buck said softly.

Eddie’s laugh was anything but amused. “Aren’t I?” he asked, risking a glance up at Buck before going back to his coffee. “I mean…I try not to be. For him. It’s why…it’s why I keep going to therapy even though I’d rather drill a hole in my own eye.” Eddie shook his head. “But I’m not sure I’m setting the best example, even now. Actually, no, I am absolutely sure I’m not setting the best example.”

Buck leaned forward. “Then talk to me. Yell at me. Hell, punch me if you need to. But stop being this.”

Eddie lifted his eyes, studying Buck for a long moment. “You really would just stand there and let me punch you, wouldn’t you?”

“If it helped? Yeah.” Buck held Eddie’s gaze, needing him to get this point. “My bruises would heal a lot faster than the ones that have been eating you up for years.” 

“Not on blood thinners,” Eddie teased, but the smile faded before it could ever reach his eyes. “You almost died,” Eddie said, his voice almost as dark as his eyes. “You almost died under that truck, and then just when we got you back, you almost died again.” 

“But I didn’t.” 

Eddie shook his head. “No, the third time you just took yourself out of our lives voluntarily.” 

“No, I did what I thought I had to short term to make sure I was there every day forev—for as long as you’d let me be.” 

If Eddie noticed the slip, he ignored it. “If you want to stay, why do you keep trying to leave?” 

He sounded like a lost kid, and Buck wanted to dive across the table and pull him into a hug. But talking was more important. “I’ve never tried to leave, Eddie,” Buck said slowly, carefully, wanting to make sure he heard every word. “Everything I’ve ever done has been me fighting to stay.” Buck took a deep breath. “I’m not Shannon.”

“I know that.” 

“Do you?”

“Well, for starters,” Eddie said, “she actually managed to leave the third time.” 

_Fuck._ He’d guessed Eddie’s issues with abandonment—or at least his most recent ones—had stemmed from Shannon. But he’d never really examined how she’d basically left him three times, two of them within a day. 

And then Buck had gone and practically done the same thing. 

Only he wasn’t leaving, and Eddie needed to get that through his thick skull. “Listen,” Buck said, taking a chance and pulling one of Eddie’s hands off the mug to hold it with his own. “I never tried to leave. I only tried to stay. All I’ve wanted practically since I met you is to stay.”

“When you met me you wanted me to disappear into a hole.” 

“No, I, uh…actually, I wanted to drag you into the supply closet and make out.” 

Eddie stared at him. “Is that why you were such a little shit?”

Buck shrugged. “Part of it, yeah—I wanted you to leave before I gave myself away. But it took me almost no time to realize that what I really wanted was for you to stay forever.” 

He held his breath, waiting for Eddie’s reaction. “Huh,” Eddie said softly, staring at their hands. He moved his slowly, lacing his fingers with Buck’s and examining the result, as if judging whether or not they fit together. “I don’t want to leave,” Eddie said, glancing at up Buck through his lashes. “And I don’t want you to leave either.” 

“Good thing,” Buck teased, “since I live here.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” Buck said, giving Eddie’s hand a squeeze. “Look,” Buck continued, “why don’t you get some sleep and we can talk more in the morning.” 

“Have to go get Chris in the morning.” 

“You don’t have to go get Chris until one.” 

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “How is it you know Chris’s schedule better than I do?”

“Well, one, I’m not drunk. And two, I pay attention.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, his voice laced with something that sounded a little like wonder. “You do. Always.”

“Yes.” Buck stood and went around the table, using his grip on Eddie’s hand to pull him out of his seat. “Come on, I’ll fix up the couch for you.” 

He started to walk away, but Eddie dug in, keeping him from getting very far. “Don’t want the couch.” 

Buck didn’t want him on the couch, either, but they were in a tenuous, if good, spot, and he didn’t want to risk it with drunken sex. “Eddie….” 

“Just sleep,” Eddie said. “I, uh….” He ducked his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I have nightmares about, well, about a lot of things—probably another good reason to be in therapy—and just once it would be nice not to wake up alone when they hit.”

When. Not if. “Yeah,” Buck said, pulling Eddie toward the stairs. “Yeah. Okay.” 

They’d made a start that they couldn’t exactly walk away from when the sun came up. The rest could wait until they’d both slept on it.

\--  
END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading - please let me know what you thought!


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